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THE 



KING'S Daughter, 



OTHER POEMS. 




BY 



U-" 



REBECCA PALFEEY UTTER. 



.v? 




The King's Datighter is all glorious within. 



BOSTON: 
J. STILMAN SMITH & COMPANY 

1888. 



-7^ 3\\3 



\)- 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1888, fay 

J. STILMAN SMITH & COMPANY, 
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

King's Daughter • 1 

M. B. F '^ 

April's Trick 4 

Return unto thy Rest 6 

Easter Song "^ 

The Wake-Robin ^ 



The Seed 



10 



Three O'clock in the Morning 12 

The Swordless Army 14 

Autumn Festival 1^ 

Where Earth and Heaven meet 1-^ 

Nothing but Leaves 20 

Christmas Hymn 22 

A False Alarm 23 

The Rain-Song 24 

The Last Good By ._ • • -20 

Little Sweet Pea 28 

White underneath 30 

Motherhood ^2 

Spring Song ^ 

In my Castle ^ 

Robin . '^^ 

40 

41 

42 



Dwellers in Tents 
In the Moonlight 
Four Valentines 



When my Ship comes in 4^ 

Ordination Hymn 48 

Dedication Hymn 49 

Walking on the Water 50 

Old Prob's Dilemma 51 

The Conspiracy of the Weather-Cocks . . .54 

Margaret Germaine 59 



THE KING'S DAUGHTER. 



She wears no jewel upon hand or brow ; 

No badge by which she may be known of men. 
But though she walk in plain attire now, 

She is a daughter of the King; and when 
Her Father calls her at his throne to wait, 
She will be clothed as doth befit her state. 

Her Father sent her in his land to dwell. 
Giving to her a work that must be done. 

And since the King loves all his people well. 
Therefore, she, too, cares for them every one. 

Thus when she stoops to lift from want or sin, 

The brighter shines her royalty therein. 

She walks erect through dangers manifold. 
While many sink and fail on either hand. 

She dreads not summer's heat nor winter's cold, 
For both are subject to the King's command. 

She need not be afraid of anything. 

Because she is a daughter of the King. 



25 THE KING S DAUGHTER. 

Even when the angel comes that men call Death, 
And name with terror, it appalls not her. 

She turns to look at him, with quickened breath, 
Thinking, "It is the royal messenger." 

Her heart rejoices that her Father calls 

Her back to live within the palace walls. 

For though the land she dwells in is most fair. 
Set round with streams, like pictures in its 
frame. 

Yet often in her heart deep longings are 

For "that imperial palace whence she came." 

Not perfect quite seems any earthly thing, 

Because she is a daughter of the King. 



M. B F. 

M. B. F. 

December 16, 1883. 



In the house of the Lord forever 

Her spirit dwelt secure. 
Here was her cool retreat 
From the burden and the heat ; 

Her refuge safe and sure. 

The rahi fell and the floods came 

With rude roar and sliock. 
The winds beat and blew : 
But she trembled not. She knew 
Her house stood on a rock. 

At last there came the messenger 
Who speaks once, and no more. 

No fear looked from her eyes ; 

Ready at once to rise 

And pass through the open door 

Into another mansion 

Of the same Father's house. 
O mother, faithful and true ! 
Dear Father, grant us, too, 

A refuge in thy house. 



AFKIL S THICK. 



APRIL'S TRICK. 



When April still was young, 
And full of her tricks and wiles, 

Sometimes frowning and sad, 
Again all grace and smiles, 

One day young April said, 

" I will feign that I am dead. 

"The Sun and the Wind will mourn; 

For they love me well, I know. 
I will hear what they say of me 

In my drapery of snow." 
So silently, in the night, 
She clothed herself in white. 

The Sun rose up in the morn 
And looked from east to west, 

And April lay still and cold. 

Then he called the Wind from his rest. 

" Sigh and lament," he said, 

" Sweet April, the child, is dead. 



APRILS THICK. 

*' She that was always fair, 
Behold how white she lies ! 

Cover the golden hair, 

Close down the beaming eyes. 

One last time let us kiss thee ; 

Dear April, we shall miss thee." 

The Sun touched his lips to her cheek, 
And the color returned in a glow ; 

The Wind laid his hand on her hair, 
And it glistened under the snow, 

As laughing aloud in glee 

Sweet April shook herself free. 



KETUKN UNTO THY liEST. 



RETURN UNTO THY REST. 



He watches o'er liis lilies pale ; 

He sees his sparrows when they fall ; 
Seed-time and harvest never fail ; 

The wild winds answer to his call ; 
All things obey his high behest : 
Return, my soul, unto thy rest. 

The life that his own hand has given, 
Shall he not keep it to the end ? 

Through every step of earth and heaven 
He will uphold thee and befriend. 

Trust him; thy doubts and fears control: 

Return unto thy rest, my soul. 

Whether through pastures green and sweet 
Thy pathway wind in pleasant ways, 

Whether he guide thy tired feet 

Slowly through dark and troubled days, 

He surely leads thee to thy best: 

Return, my soul, unto thy rest. 



RETURN UNTO THY REST. 

There is no deatli ; there is no loss. 

He holds thy treasure safe for thee 
In other mansions of his house. 

A little while, and thou shalt see 
He will restore thee more than all : 
Return unto thy rest, my soul. 



EASTER SONG. 



The winter snows have slipped away 
'Neath April skies of blue and gray; 
The flowers are Avaking day by day, 
And sweet bird voices seem to say, 
" Spring is here." 

The brooks run forth her steps to meet; 
Their voices soft her coming greet; 
And grasses haste beneath lier feet 
To spread a carpet, green and sweet. 
Spring is here. 

And in their joy we too have part; 
Let clouds of sorrow now depart, 
Let hope and joy like blossoms start. 
God whispers to each tearful heart. 
Spring is here. 



THE WAKE-KOBIN. 



THE WAKE-ROBIN. 



When leaves green and hardy 

From sleep have just uncurled, 
(Spring is so tardy 

In this part of the world), 
There comes a white flower forth. 

Opens its e^^es, 
Looks at the waking earth 

In drowsy surprise. 

A fair and pleasant vision 

The nodding blossoms make ; 
And the flower's name and mission 

Is " Wake, Robin, wake ! " 
But you're late, my lady. 

You have not earned your name ; 
Robin's up and ready 

Long before you came. 

You trusted the sun's glances 
To rouse you from your naps ; 

Or the brook, that near you dances 
At spring's approach, perhaps. 



THE WAKE-KOBIN. 

Your chamber was too shady 
The drooping boughs among ; 

Robin's up already ; 

Don't you hear his song ? 

There he sits, swinging, 

In his brown and scarlet cloak. 
His notes like laughter ringing, 

Be sure he sees the joke. 
" Accidents will happen," 

Laughs Robin loud and clear ; 
" If you think to catch me napping, 

Wake earlier next year." 



10 THE SEED. 



THE SEED. 



When in the dark imprisoning ground 
The seed lies waiting for its hour, 

Within a narrow cell fast bound, 
Yet conscious of an inward power, 

I know that it must cherish there 

Dim longings for the upper air ; 

Dreams of a life more free and fair, 
Foregleams of leaf and flower. 

And when at last the word goes forth. 
And its frail covering falls apart, 

And rising upward from the earth 
A new life thrills through every part, 

The great sun greets it with a smile ; 

And the warm air of spring the while 

Its unexpanded leaves beguile 
From out their buds to start. 

Over its head, a sheltering tent. 

The blue sky bends by night and day ; 

While at its feet, in sweet content. 
The brook goes singing on its way. 



THE SEED. 11 

And lifting up its head it sees 
The lofty, over-arching trees, 
And feels itself akin to these 
With joyful ecstasy. 

How like a dream must seem the strife 

And longing of its stay below ! 
How brief the struggle of that life, 

Its days of waiting, long and slow ! 
How strange and sweet the sudden bliss 
That the dark way could lead to this I 
I think I now can dimly guess ; 

But one day"! shall know! 



12 THllEE o'clock IN THE MOIININCJ 



THREE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING. 



What do the robins whisper about 

From their homes in the elms and birches ? 
I've tried to puzzle the mystery out, 
But still the answer is wrapped in doubt 
In spite of my deep researches. 

When all the world is in silence deep 

In the twilight of early dawning, 
They begin to chirp, and twitter, and peep. 
As if they were talking in their sleep, 

At three o'clock in the morning. 

Perhaps the little ones stir, and complain 

That it's time to be up and doing ; 
And the mother sings them a drowsy strain 
To coax them back to their dreams again, 
Though distant cocks are crowing. 

Or do they tell secrets, that should not be heard 
By mortals listening and prying ? 



THREE o'clock IN THE MORNING. 13 

Perhaps we might learn from some whispered 

word 
The best way to bring up a little bird, 
And teach it the art of flying. 

It may be they speak of one autumn day 
When, with many a feathered roamer, 

Under a sky too cold and gray, 

Over the hills they took their way, 
In search of the vanished summer. 

And sometimes they gossip, from nest to nest, 

Hidden and leaf-enf olded ; 
For do we not often hear it confessed, 
When a long-kept secret at last is guessed, 

That " a little bird has told it " ? 

Perhaps — but the question is all in doubt. 
They give me no hint, no warning. 

Listen, and tell me if you find out, 

What do the robins whisper about 
At three o'clock in the morning? 



14 THE SWOllDLESS ARMY. 



THE SWORDLESS ARMY. 



A FABLE old there is (or might have been), 
Of a fair land laid waste by civil strife ; 

Where seeming friends were deadly foes within, 
Neither did any prize his neighbor's life 

If he by spilling it more wealth might win. 
At every belt was hung the ready knife. 

So evil grew the times as years went by, 
That hardly any man dared stir abroad 

For fear some watchful hidden enemy 

Might in his absence seize his little hoard. 

Each looked on each with a suspicious eye, 
Guarding the place wherein his wealth w^as 
stored. 

Then, Avhen it seemed that things no worse 
could be, 

There rose a man, upright, and pure of heart, 
Whose eyes alone were clear and strong to see 

The misery men had chosen for their part ; 
How bright and fair were faith and charity, 

How black their craftiness and evil art. 



THE SWOKDLESS ARMY. 15 

He spoke to them in words of counsel wise ; 

He told them all their bitter, sad mistake. 
Some listened with indifference and surprise, 

Not caring much their own ways to forsake. 
Some felt a hope within their hearts arise. 

Yet dared not be the first new steps to take. 

But earnestly he urged them, and implored, 
Till they consented to appoint a day 

When every man should throw aside his sword. 
And cast his feuds and jealousies away. 

And meet with outstretched hand and friendly 
word 
His neighbor, to keep joyful holiday. 

But so it was, that every man, as he 

Made ready, in his inmost heart had said, 

" What if some traitor in the midst should be ? 
Must I stand helpless while he strikes me 
dead? 

I know the men that make this company." 
And in his garment's fold a knife he laid. 

The hour came ; each sought the appointed 
place, 
And all seemed smooth and pleasant to the 
view : 



16 THE SWOKDLESS AH:,IY. 

For there were careful smiles on every face, 
And words that had a friendly sound and true ; 

Till, as two neighbors met in close embrace, 
Sudden and fierce a tumult rose and grew. 

For each had felt beneath the other's gown 
The hidden weapon ; and in jealous fear 
Quick from its hiding-place leaped forth his own, 
■ As both together cried, " A traitor's here ! " 
And in a moment every sword was drawn. 
And cries of " Traitor \ " sounded far and near. 

Then, for they all were cowards, each one ran, 
Fighting, the shelter of his home to gain, 

Until alone there lay one dying man. 

Pierced with a hundred wounds, upon the 
plain. 

Where, for the fair fulfilment of his plan. 

Hopeful, aiid all unarmed, he watched in vain. 

But one who hurried by with sword in hand 
Paused to look down upon liim where he lay 

Lifeless ; and thought, " Of all our treacherous 
band 
The only honest heart has bled to-day ; 

The one pure light in this benighted land 
Is darkened." And he cast his sword away. 



THE SWORDLESS ARMY. 17 

And knelt to lift him. And another passed, 
And seeing them, turned back to lend his 
aid. 

And both forgot their bitterness at last 
In common love and sorrow for the dead : 

Recalling his good deeds, and blameless past, 
And earnest, loving words that he had said. 

And so the thought of that pure life hence- 
forth 
Possessed their liearts, that nought else could 
they do 
But speak of it to all men. Little worth 

Seemed now the gold they once had loved to 
view. 
And Avith such power their earnest words went 
forth 
That every day their number spread and 



And did that influence strengthen and increase 
Till all men joined at last the peaceful band? 

Did violence and envy wholly cease. 
So that no weapon Avas in any hand 

Through endless years of happiness and peace, 
The SAVordless Army filling all the land ? 



18 THE S WORDLESS AHMV. 

I cannot tell. Some think that this might be, 
Others have said men never conld forget, 

Wholly, their selfishness and rivalry. 
Nor rise above temptations that beset 

Them everywhere. Bnt one day we shall see. 
I think the story is not finished yet. 



SUNDAY-SCHOOL HYMN, 

(for autumn festival.) 



Our Heavenly Father looks Avith love 

Upon this world of ours. 
And sends his rain and sunshine doAvn 

To make it bright Avith floAvers. 

Through spring and summer da3'S they fall 

On orchard and on field. 
Till rosy fruit and golden grain 

In rich su})plies they yield. 

And so AAdien falls our Father's love 

Upon these hearts of ours, 
Kind words and noble deeds should grow, 

Like lovely fruits and floAvers. 



WHERE EARTH AND HEAVEN MEEiT. 19 



WHERE EARTH AND HEAVEN MEET. 



Whether between lie meadows green, 

Where sun and shado^v- play, 
Or silent snowfields intervene 

AVith trees of leafless gray, 
Or stately hills send down supplies 

To blue lakes at their feet. 
Beyond them all I seek the line 

Where earth and heaven meet. 

Sometimes remote it seems, and dim. 

Through earthl}- mists that rist' ; 
Again distinct and clear it stands 

Before my longing e3'es. 
O faces loved I may not see, 

O lips I may not greet. 
Till life's horizon line I reach 

Where eartli and heaven meet. 



20 NOTHING BUT LEAVES. 



NOTHING BUT LEAVES. 



There stood a young plant in a garden fair, 
Where the spring sunshine was most fair 
and bright. 
The moist earth nourished it ; the breathing air 
Took from its folded leaves a fragrance rare. 
And coming summer seemed one long delight. 

It felt the beauty of all outward things ; 

Rejoiced in sun and breeze with grateful 
heart. 
Yet thought, " My greatest joy the summer 

brings. 
When from green buds unsheathing their bright 
wings 
The clustered blossom from my stem shall 
start." 

It knew not that its worth and beauty lay 

In the sweet perfume of its growing leaf; 
And when the gardener, passing by one day. 
Cut from its stem the buds, and went his way. 
Its heart within it heavy grew with grief. 



NOTHING BUT LEAVES. 21 

Then, with all patience lifting up its head, 
Its mission it fulfilled unconsciously. 

Once more abroad its drooping branches spread ; 

For " Though I may not blossom," so it said, 
'' At least my leaves shall green and perfect 
be." 

Daily and nightly from that still retreat 

Its fragrance widened through the summer 
air; 
And the good gardener thought no wreath 

complete 
Until a spray of leaves so wondrous sweet 
Was twined among the flowers, however fair. 

'Twas loved and sought and prized the country 
through. 

And one among whose bridal flowers it lay 
The stem from out the fading roses drew. 
Planted, and cared for it, until it grew 

A living memory of her v»^edding-day. 

And sometimes hearts oppressed with loss and 
grief 
A sudden comfort from its presence drew. 
It seemed a message sent to them ; as if 
There came a whisper from each rustling leaf, 
'' Shall he not, therefore, much more care for 
you?" 



22 NOTHING BUT LEAVES. 

At last, Avhen all the flowers had closed their 
eyes, 

To its long rest it lay down thankfully, 
Thinking, " Another sumixier will arise ; 
Perhaps beneath its soft and sunny skies 

The flower of my life I yet shall see." 



CHRISTMAS HYMN 



In another land and clime. 

Long ago and far away. 
Was a little baby born 

On the first glad Christmas Day. 

Words of truth and deeds of love 
Filled his life from day to day, 

So that all the world was blessed 
On that first glad Christmas Day. 

Little children did he love 
With a tender love alway ; 

So should little children be 

Alwa3^s glad on Christmas Day. 



A FALSE ALARM. 23 



A FALSE ALARM, 



A BIRD from the far blue sky 

Came down to a tree-top high, 

And sang so merry and loud one day 

He had seen Spring coming up this way. 

A little brook heard it, and ran 

As fast as a little brook can. 

And told the ferns in the hollow there 

To take the curl-papers out of their hair. 

He spoke to the violets, too. 

To put on their gowais of blue. 

The snow-drops and crocuses heard it all. 

And did not wait for a second call. 

But they need not have made such haste ; 
There was time to use and to waste. 
They dressed themselves in their best array. 
And then they waited a week and a day. 



24 THE UAIN-SONG. 



THE RAIN-SONG. 



When woods were still and smoky, 

And roads with dust were white, 
And daily the red sun came up 

With never a cloud in sight. 
And the hillside brook had hardly strength 

To journey down to the plain, 
A welcome sound it was to hear, — 

The robins' song of rain. 

" Lily, Fuchsia, Pansy," 

The robins sang in the town. 
To thirsty garden flowers that stood 

With delicate heads bowed down. 
" Listen, we bring you a message : 

Your doubts and fears are vain ; 
For he who knoweth all your needs 

To-morrow will send you rain. 

" Golden-rod, Aster, Gentian," 

They sang in field and wood, 
" We whose homes are near to the sky 

Have brought you tidings good. 



THE HAIX-S()X(i. 25 

Lift up your heads, and listen ; 

Forget your thirst and pain ; 
For he who knoweth all your needs 

To-moiTow will send you rain." 

Far and wide they sang it, 

Till grove and garden knew. 
The green trees stirred at the joyful word, 

Till the sunset clouds looked through. 
Each told the news to his neighbor, 

Each neighbor passed it along, 
Till the loneliest flower in the silent wood 

Had heard of the robins' song. 

Dear little feathered prophets. 
Your message was not vain ; 
For in the stillness of the niorht 

o 

Came the footsteps of the rain. 



26 THE LAST GOOD BY. 



THE LAST GOOD BY. 



We have said our last good by ; 

Once for all the word is spoken ; 
Yet the strong and sacred tie 

Is not changed, beloved, nor broken. 
Ever near I feel thee here. 
We have said our last good by. 

AVhen on earth we say good by, 

Sad our hearts, not knowing whether 

Pain and grief will pass us by 
Till again we come together. 

Wild Avinds sweep, and seas are deep. 

And with tears we say good by. 

Now, beyond all Avreck and storm 
Thou art safe, beloved, forever ; 

Life has new and glorious form 
Where peace floweth as a river. 

Surely, glad, and not sad 

It should be, — the last good by. 



THE LAST GOOD BY. 27 

We have said our last good by ; 

Not, beloved, our last glad greeting. 
How my heart beats quick and high, 

Thinking, sometimes, of the meeting 
When we stand in the land 
Where no more they say good by. 

What and where that land may be 
I can only dream ; but whether 

Far or near, I know that we 

Always there may dwell together. 

Sad, yet sweet, the words repeat, — 

We have said our last good by. 



28 LITTLE SWEET PEA. 



LITTLE SWEET PEA. 



Of all the flowers that summer brings, 

Little Sweet Pea, with unfolded wings. 
And delicate fragrance that from them springs, 
Is sweetest and best to me. 

Her sober brown seeds in the ground I place, 

Then watch for the sight of her rosy face 
And slender tendrils, with clinging grace, — 
A pleasant sight to see. 

Little Sweet Pea is brave and bold ; 

Early she lifts her head from the mould ; 
And though the winds are searching and cold 
Never a fear has she. 

Though April laughs and cries like a child. 

And even May can be rude and wild, 
She knows that June will be friendly and kind; 
So she toils on patiently. 

Her neighbors all are at her command, 

Glad to offer a helping hand. 
^' You are young," they whisper, " alone to stand; 
Lean upon me " — " and me." 



LITTLE SWEET PEA. 29 

She clasps their fingers upon her way, 
And so climbs upward day by day, 
Till June, with a steady, comforting ray, 
Cheers the lieart of Sweet Pea, 

And makes it so glad, and happy, and light. 
That she breaks into blossoms fragrant and 
bright. 
Like rosy butterflies ready for flight, — 
A joy to all who see. 

Constant and true is Sweet Pea, and tliough 

Early to come, she is late to go ; 
She stays till the clouds are heavy with snow, 
And all alone is she. 

She shivers with cold in the autumn gale ; 
Her wings are turning j)urple and pale ; 
The strength departs from her fingers frail ; 
" It is time to go," says she. 

The neighbors all who helped her to rise 
Look in her face with sorrowful eyes. 
*' I will come back again," she cries ; 

'' Good by," says little Sweet Pea. 



30 WHITE UNDERNEATH. 



WHITE UNDERNEATH, 



Into a city street 

Narrow and noisome, chance had led my feet ; 
Poisonous to every sense ; and the sun's rays 
Loved not the unclean place. 

It seemed that no pure thing 
Its whiteness here would ever dare to bring ; 
Yet even into this dark place and low 
God had sent down his snow. 

Here, too, a little child 

Played with the drifts now blackened and defiled, 
And with his rosy hands, in earnest play, 
Scraped the dark crust away, 

Checking my hurried pace. 
To note the busy hands and eager face, 
I heard him laugh aloud in pure delight 
That underneath, 'twas white. 

Then through a broken pane 
A woman's voice summoned him in again. 
With softened mother tones, that half excused 
The unclean words she used. 



WHITE UNDERNEATH. 



81 



And as I lingered near 

His baby accents fell upon ni}^ ear. 

" See, I can make the snow again for you 

All clean and white and new." 



Ah, surely God knows best. 
Our sight is short ; faith trusts to him the rest. 
Sometimes we know he gives to human hands 
To Avork out his commands. 

Perhaps he holds apart 

By baby fingers, in that mother's heart. 

One fair clean spot that yet shall spread and 

grow, 
Till all be white as snow. 



82 MOTHEUHOOD, 



MOTHERHOOD. 



My thought goes back to that first Christmas 

day 
When the young mother in the manger lay, 
Weary and pale, but full of pride and joy. 
While pressing to her side her baby bo}^ 

Ah, sister Mary, time and place are strange. 
But centuries bring the mother heart no change. 
We know, to whom a child is given now, 
Your thoughts, Avhile gazing on that baln^ brow. 

The hope that filled each Jewish woman's breast 
In every mother's heart is still a guest ; 
That through this life a glorious light may shine 
Lifting the world to levels more divine. 

We know not how God's poets, prophets, come ; 
It may be one is here, within our home. 
So reverently Ave guide the little feet. 
And wait the first uncertain accents sweet. 



MOTHERHOOD. 33 

We ponder in our hearts their sayings wise, 
Reading between the lines with mother eyes. 
We see the wise men gold and incense bring, 
While in our hearts the heavenly angels sing. 

O Mary, lying in your manger low. 

The thoughts that filled your heart we also 

know. 
Distance and time may make all else seem 

strange, 
But mother love has never known a cliange. 



34 SPRING SONG. 



SPRIN! 



Behold, the winter is past ; 

He hurries over the hills, 
His snowy garments dissolving fast 

In a fringe of shining rills. 
The waters glad and free 
Clap their white hands for glee ; 

They leap up into the light at last ; 

For lo, the winter is past. 

The rain is over and gone ; 

The blue sky bends above ; 
And gloriously the sun looks down 

On garden, field, and grove. 
Heavily fell the showers 
Through the long clouded hours ; 

But every drop was a good seed sown ; 

The rain is over and gone. 

The flowers appear on the earth. 

Springing on every side ; 
After, the winter creeping north 

With summer's rising tide. 



SPRING SONG. 35 

Each lovely shape and hue 

A miracle ever new ; 

Each bud a separate, Avondrous birth : 
The flowers appear on the earth. 

The time of the singing of birds 

Is come. Each flutters and sings 
As if a joy that could find no words 

Lay under those restless wings. 
Through every land and clime 

Each tree they find a home, 
Each field a table spread. The time 

Of the singing of birds is come. 



IN MY CASTLE. 



IN MY CASTLE. 



I HAVE a castle in the air 

Filled with many a vision fair ; 

But one bright chamber still is there, 

Warm, sunny, airy ; 
There oftenest my steps repair, 

There longest tarry. 

For fairest in that fairy place 
There is a form of childish grace, 
A little smiling baby face 

My vision meeting; 
She lifts herself to my embrace 

With eager greeting. 

Two little rosy lips and sweet. 
My own with loving kisses greet ; 
Two little restless, springing feet, 

Too young for roaming ; 
Two little beaming blue eyes greet 

The mother's coming. 



IN MY CASTLE. 37 

And closely, with a loving arm, 
I hold that precious baby form ; 
Her arms about my neck cling warm 

With soft caressing; 
Her every breath is like a balm, 

Her touch a blessing. 

Therefore, my castle rarely is 

A scene of worldly luxuries ; 

Small place is there for wealth, or ease, 

Or fame, it may be ; 
So filled is all my heart Avith this, 

My SAveet dream baby. 



38 ROBIN. 



ROBIN. 



Robin, on that tall elm-tree, 

Back and forth so gaily swinging, 

Come, interpret unto me 

All that pleasant song you're singing. 

Are you telling to your mate 
Business matters confidential. 

That you stand so very straight 
And appear so consequential? 

Even before the snow is gone. 
Or the crocuses are peeping, 

Can it be you are so soon 

Laying plans for your housekeeping? 

Let me whisper to you, bird, 

Liexperienced new-comer, 
Let me tell you just a word 

Ere you lay your plans for summer. 



IJOBLN. 39 

But my word remained unsaid ; 

For, without a note of Avarning, 
Quick he spread his wings and fled, 

All my offered counsel scorning. 

Through the sunshine warm and l)right. 
Brown and rosy flashed together. 

As he vanished from my sight 
In the pleasant April weather. 



40 DWELLERS IN TENTS. 



DWELLERS IN TENTS. 



Awhile on earth we roam, 
In these frail houses which are not our home, 
Journeying towards a refuge that is sure, 
A rest secure. 

Therefore we need not mourn 

That sudden clouds across our skies are borne ; 

That winter chills us, and the storm makes 

rents 
In our frail tents. 

Therefore Ave need not fear. 

Though moth and rust corrupt our treasure 

here ; 
Though midnight thieves creep in with silent 

stealth 
To seize our Avealth. 

For, in our Father's house, 
A mansion fair he has prepared for us ; 
And only till his voice has called us hence, 
We dwell in tents. 



THE MOONLIGHT. 41 



IN THE MOONLIGHT. 



The quiet street, the elm-trees tall 

With drooping boughs against the sky ; 

The newly fallen snowdrifts, all 
Fade off before my eye. 

And in their place the sky bends down 
Over a plain of waters bright, 

Where a little vessel all alone 

Sails southward through the night. 

And from her deck a face I know 
Looks out across the moonlit sea ; 

While in the heart that beats below 
There is a thought of me. 

O little vessel, safe and swift 
Be thy return, across the sea. 

May never an angry tempest lift 
His hand to trouble thee. 



42 hOUli VALENTINES. 



FOUR VALENTINES. 

To C. ('. W. 
I. 

There is no sign of coming spring 

In all the frosty air; 
No budding snow-drop to the sun 

Lifts up her forehead fair ; 
Yet will the merr}^ birdlings sing 

Their love songs, as of yore ; — • 
I, too, must sing the same old song 
Once more. 



Perhaps the outAvard signs of spring 
From us have passed away; 

Perhaps faint wrinkles deck our brows 
Perhaps some hairs are gray; 

Yet love within our hearts may sing 
As gayly as of yore ; 

And I may be your valentine 
Once more. 



FOUK VALENTINES. 43 



II. 



Though time and distance part me from 
Thy face, that I would ghidly see, 

And warn me that in future years 
Diverging wide our paths may be ; 

Yet on this well-remembered day 

Old feelings will resume their sway, 

And once again my amorous lay 
I pen to thee. 

Not in the old time-honored style, 

That suited well our youthful fancies ; 
Of cruel maid that will not smile. 

And youth that pines beneath her glances ; 
In Avords less grand, but more sincere, 
I mourn thy pleasant presence here. 
And hours to memory still more dear 
As time advances. 

And while your pleasant path you walk. 

Round which the flowers seem thickly set, 
Let thoughts of days that are no more, 
Like welcome friends, be kindly met. 
The sunset walks, the mile-tree seat. 
The seaside rocks we would not quit 
Till the tide touched our lingering feet. 
Forget not yet. 



44 FOUR valentinp:s. 



III. 

If I were like a feathery bird, 

Across the sea I would fly, 
And light on the hand of one I know, — 

But he would not know it was I. 

I would sing him a song so strange and sweet, 

He would both smile and sigh. 
With sudden thoughts of home in his mind, — 

But he would not know it was I. 



IV. 

A fancy seizes me 

For old times' sake, 
To try if still my pen 

A rhyme can make. 
Back flies Time's wheel to-night 

With sudden whirls. 
Bringing again the days 

When we were girls. 

Bringing again the old 

Elm-shaded street, 
Down which we loved to walk 

With loitering feet ; 



FOUR VALENTINES. 45 

The woods all radiant with 

Sei)tember's gold, 
Along whose shining paths 

We sometimes strolled. 

Warm twiliglits when we watched 

The lazy tide 
Come creeping up the rocks 

As daylight died ; 
Fire-lighted evenings when 

We two have sat 
With books and needle-work 

And pleasant chat. 

' Pleasant in passing were 

Those girlhood days, 
And pleasant still as seen 

Through memory's haze. 
And though the long, long years 

Rise up between. 
Though wide the contineL t 

May intervene. 
We'll laugh at time and space. 

Old friend of mine, 
And I will be once more 

Your valentineo 



46 WHEN MY SHIP COMES IN. 



WHEN MY SHIP COMES IN. 



All in the golden month of June, 
When birds are singing their merriest tune, 
When skies are brightest, and waves most blue, 
And flowers are gayest with every hue. 
And young leaves dance upon every tree. 
Then my ship will come in from sea. 

Then my ship will come in from sea 

Richest of treasure bringing to me , 

Not pleasant fruits from far-off lands, 

Gathered and stored by dusky hands. 

But something more sweet to my lips than these 

My ship will bring me across the seas. 

My ship will bring me across the seas 

No silks and velvets the eye to please ; 

No misty laces fine to vicAV, 

Nor Indian shawls of brilliant hue. 

But something that folds me more close, more 

Avarni, 
My ship bears onward through calm and storm. 



AVHEN MY SHIP COMES IN. 47 

My ship bears onward tlu'ough calm and storm 

No jewel set in curious form ; 

But something I wear with more joy, more pride, 

Than any gem the mountains can hide. 

Or any pearl that is under the sea. 

God 1)less her, and bring her back to me. 



I thought to see her gliding up the bay. 

With all her white sails set triumphantly ; 
My heart went out to meet her on the way 
Up from the southern sea. 

1 will not mourn that she is safe from harm, 

Though my eyes long her goodly form to see ; 
Safe from the hidden rock, safe from the storm 
My good ship waits for me. 

And back again upon this dangerous coast, 
Though brave, and strong, and seaworthy was 

she. 
Where ships are daily wrecked, and treasure lost, 

I would not have her be. 

Content with present poverty and pain; 
For rich above all counting I shall be, 
When my good ship and treasure I regain 
Beyond the sea. 



48 ORDINATION HY.MN. 



ORDINATION HYMN. 

(Belfast, October, 1871.) 



With faithful heart alway 

To love and serve mankind ; 
To help the feet that went astray 

The hidden path to find; 

The light of things unseen 

To blinded eyes reveal ; 
The hearts that men have called unclean 

With reverent touch to heal — 

Through pain and weariness 

This path the Saviour trod ; 
Close in his footsteps must he press 

Who, serving man, serves God. 

Though small the victory won 

In the world's narrow sight, 
Yet shall his Master's word, " Well done," 

The servant's choice requite. 



DEDICATION HYMN. - 49 



DEDICATION HYMN. 

(Oltmpia, October, 1877.) 



Father, we come to thee to-night 

With grateful song, with prayer sincere, 

Who hast made giad our toiling hands, 
And crowned the labors of the year. 

To thee we dedicate this house : 

Here may thy presence rest unseen, 

Here may thy still, small voice be heard 
The labors of the weeks between. 

And may we learn that service true 
Not shut within these walls may be ; 

That who with generous, helping hand 
His neighbor serves, is serving thee. 

So may a house of God arise 

In every heart that meets thee here ; 

Each deed a worthy sacrifice 

And every thought a prayer sincere. 



50 WALKING ON THE WATER. 



WALKING ON THE WATER. 



Tossing at night upon a stormy sea. 
What earthly help can now avail for thee? 
How^ the frail boat on which thy hopes are cast^ 
Shivers and trembles in the risinof blast ! 

Lift up thine eyes. Behold, upon the wave 
The Lord draws near thy trembling life to save : 
He knows thy peril, though th}' lips are dumb ; 
Across the watery waste he bids thee come. 

Think not how high the angr}- waters rise ; 
Think not that men ^^ill gaze with wondering 

eyes ; 
Think not it is thine o^vn exalted power 
L^pholds thy feet upon that treacherous floor. 

But fix thine eyes upon that face divine ; 
Take the kind hand so gladly stretched for 

thine ; 
Let not thy clear faith waver, nor grow dim ; 
So on the water shalt thou walk to him. 



OLD prob's dilemma. 51 



OLD PROB'S DILEMMA. 



Old Prob, one clay, sat up in his shop, 
Pouring his rain out, drop by drop. 
Boiling, and freezing, and stirring it up 

Into mist, and hail, and snow ; 
Bottling sunshine for Avinter use, 
Tying up winds that were getting loose. 
Sending out clouds, for a little cruise 

Across the sky to go. 

And when all things were arranged to his mind, 
For a change of scene he felt inclined ; 
So, shutting his workshop door behind. 

He descended the creaking stair, 
And spoke to his housekeeper, down below 
At her favorite window sitting to sew, 
To have an eye on the shop, you know. 

While he was taking the air. 

"• I've fixed the weather at * cold and clear,' 
And there's nothing for you to do, my dear, 
But if any should call at the office here, 
To say for a walk I'm gone." 



52 OLD riiOJi'.S DILEMMA. 

Then with hands in his pockets he sallied forth, 
Turning his steps to the frozen north, 
" To visit his snug little farm, the earth, 
And see how the crops came on." 

Said the housekeeper then, in a musing way, 
" Now I must begin without delay ; 
That dreadful shop for many a day 

Has needed my broom and mop." 
She quickly mounted the narrow stair 
And looked about with a business air ; 
Cobwebs and dust were everywhere, 

From floor to window top. 

" Now the very first thing to do, no doubt, 
Is to pull the furniture all about,' 
And dust every piece, inside and out ; 

And here I'll begin the job." 
She turned to a corner where wide and tall 
Stood a huge big bureau against the wall, 
With many a drawer, and cupboard, and hole, 

And many a brazen knob. 

'Twas a piece of furniture known to fame ; 
But the woman had never heard its name. 
At it she went, without awe or shame. 
And pulled a knob of the bureau. 
Out came a blast that chilled her nose ; 
The end of her mop in an icicle froze ; 



OLD prob's dilemma. 53 

Frost on the window spreads and grows, 
And the mercury drops to zero. 

She touched another, and somethmg. white 
Came out, like a flock of birds in flight ; 
She neither could see nor hear for fright, 

As the snow grew thicker and deeper 
She opened a drawer, and out there flew 
All kinds of winds that ever blew : 
" Oh, gracious me, what a hullabaloo ! " 

Cried poor Old Prob's housekeeper. 

At last every door she opened wide, 
Hoping for sunshine somewhere inside ; 
And then she suddenly turned to hide, 

For she heard the master coming. 
Out the window she jumped : she didn't care 
If she never alighted, nor how, nor where ; 
While Prob stumped slowly up the stair, 

'' Fm called little Buttercup," humming. 

But oh, the sight that met his eye ! 
He laid his cap and mittens by. 
Stopped not to question how nor why, 

Nor if, nor but, nor whether. 
And he's busy yet, both day and night, 
Making that bureau sound and tight ; 
For till he gets his shop set right 

We can't have any weather. 



54 CONSPIRACY OF THE WEATHER-COCKS. 



THE CONSPIRACY OF THE WEATHER- 
COCKS. 



My house stands high on the hill-top ; 

From its window looking down 
I see, in the distance, mountains 

With slopes of green and brown, 
And, nearer, the homes and churches 

And busy streets of the town.- 

And over the pleasant landscape 

Whenever I cast my eye, 
From distant domes and towers 

And slender steeples high. 
Twelve brightly gilded weather-cocks 

Stand out against the sky. 

Good friends they are, and faithful, 
Whom I most dearly prize ; 

For the children of my neighbor, 
They call me weather-wise. 

And almost daily meet me 
With eager, questioning eyes. 



CONSPIRACY OF THE WEATHER-COCKS. 65 

" Will it clear off to-morrow ? " 

Or, " Will it be fair to-day ? " 
They ask, when the morning's rosy, 

Or the sunset sky is gray ; 
Then I turn to my chamber window 

To see wdiat the weather-cocks say. 

One, on the tallest steeple. 

Stands proudly at his ease, 
Ever alert and watchful. 

He faces the lightest breeze ; 
And the children and I have named him 

" Old Probabilities." 



One night — 'twas in September; 

The moon was shining bright — 
I rose from my bed at midnight. 

For I could not sleep aright, 
To gaze on the sleeping city 

And the beauty of the night. 

Such a sight I saw as never 

Was witnessed before nor since ; 

There stood Old Probabilities 
• Perched on my garden fence, 

And many gilded weather-cocks 
From all parts flying thence ! 



56 CONSPIRACY OF THE WEATHEH-COCKS. 

On the ground alighted before him 
Each strange and glittering bird; 

I was so full of Avonder 

I neither spoke nor stirred, 

And the rousing speech he made them 
I heard it, every Avord. 

"Friends," said the speaker, proudly, 

''We are a noble race; 
And men do well to give us 

Their most exalted place ; 
Are not their rain and sunshine 

Dependent on our grace ? 

" We turn to the north — the cold winds 
Bring down the ice and snow ; 

To the south — the soft spring breezes 
Make the waters melt and flow ; 
. We bow to the west — the rain clouds 
Fold up their tents and go. 

"And do men therefore praise us? 

Oh, friends, I speak with pain ; 
They call us weak and worthless, 

Changeable, fickle, vain : 
They make us a scorn and by-word ; 

You have heard it once and again. 



CONSPIKACY OF THE WEATHEli-COCKS. 57 

" Tlierefore my wrath is kindled 

Into a mighty flame : 
Arise, ye noble weather-cocks 

Who prize our ancient fame ; 
Rise, and we yet will show them 

Deeds worthy of a name ! 

" Fly back to your domes and towers, 

And firmly plant your feet ; 
Set your faces straight to the southward 

Till the wind comes, strong and fleet ; 
Be firm, and the day is ours ; 

Farewell ! Revenge is sweet ! " 

Then I heard their brazen pinions 
Clash through the silent night ; 

But a cloud o'er the moon was passing, 
And I did not see their flight. 

Returning then to my pillow, 
I slept till morning light. 



In the morning the children met me 
With — '' Noiv what do you think ? " 

The weather-cocks stood out upon 
A sky as black as ink. 

I almost thought I could see them 
Nod to each other and wink. 



58 CONSPIRACY OF THE WEATHER-COCKS. 

And before a word of answer 

Had time to come from my mouth, 

The trees were bending and swaying 
With a sudden gust from the south ; 

S^yifter it came, and stronger. 

Till a great gale blew from the south. 

The busy streets of the city 

In a moment were empty quite ; 

From the fields ran the cattle for shelter, 
All huddled together in friglit ; 

And the birds flew into the forest, 
Where it was dark as night. 

Then came the clattering rain-drops, 

Each heav}' as a stone ; 
The blue floor of the harbor 

All rough and black had grown. 
And the vessels dragged their anchors 

And toward the beach moved on. 

The children Avatched from my window 

As the leaves flew by in flocks. 
" How the wind howls and whistles ! " 

They cried, " And the steeple rocks ! " 
But the sounds they heard were the shriekings 

Of those jubilant weather-cocks. 



MARGARET GERMAINE. 59 



MARGARET GERMAINE. 

1G71-4873, 



Come, little Margaret, sit beside me here, 
Where the Avarm firelight shines so bright and 

clear. 
While cold without the north wind whistles 

drear 
And piles the drifting ^low ; 
And I will tell you now a story true 
About a little girl you never knew. 
Though she was called Margaret G-ermaine^ like 

you, 
So many years ago. 

Long, long ago, two hundred years before 
Your eyes first opened on New England's shore, 
A vessel small the winds and waters bore 

From sunny France away ; 
And on the deck, beside her mother pale, 
Holding with careful arms a baby frail, 
A little maid stood 'neath the shadowing sail 

One bright October day. 



(30 MARGARET GERMAINE. 

Were her eyes brown, or gray, or sunny blue? 

Was the hair dark or golden in its hue, 

That round her face the cool sea-breezes blew? 

The story does not tell. 
But brown or blue, those eyes Avere dim with 

tears. 
Looking their last on home of childhood's years ; 
And the young heart was full of anxious fears ; 

This Ave may know full well. 

Poor little Margaret, sad she well might be ; 
From cruel persecution forced to flee ; 
Borne by wild Avinds across a stormy sea. 

From home and friends away. 
But patiently the little maiden tried 
With words of cheer her troubled heart to hide, 
For the dear mother's sake, Avho at her side 

Seemed drooping day by day. 

And yet another grief fate held in store. 
While scarce the jjerilous voyage was half way 

o'er. 
Mother and baby passed to that strange shore 

Across the sea of Death, 
So near, and yet so far. And thus alone. 
In these sad days from child to woman grown. 
She landed on this western shore unknown. 

And chill with winter's breath. 



MARGARET GERMAINE. (31 

But one there was among that exile band 
Who on the vessel's deck together stand, 
Longingly gazing toward the bare gray land 

Whose shore before them lies, 
Who fain our Margaret's lonely heart would 

cheer. 
Comfort her grief, dispel each gathering tear, 
And read a lover's message, hope or fear. 

In those sad downcast eyes. 

The scanty record does not tell us whether 
In fields of France these two had played to- 
gether, 
Ere storms had chilled their childhood's summer 
weather 
And dimmed its sky of blue : 
But little matters now ; new friends or old. 
Love's lesson soon they learned, love's story 

told; 
And like a land of promise fair unrolled 
A new world to their view. 

So in the wilderness there bloomed a rose ; 
A new home, planted in New England snows. 
Love warmed, hope lighted, held from threaten- 
ing foes 
With ever-watchful care. 



62 MARGARET GERMAINE. 

For men and women in that early day 

Must work and fight, no less than watch and 

pray.. 
Our little grandmother, her part to play, 
Needs both to do and dare. 

Time passed, with toils, and cares, and sober 

joys. 
Bringing them gifts of rosy girls and boys, 
To fill the cabin with their merry noise. 

Amid the baby host. 
Matron and mother now, though youthful still. 
We see our Margaret rule with steady will 
Her woman's kingdom ; happier throne to fill 

Than any queen can boast. 

Almost a hundred years she lived to see ; 
Children's grandchildren gathered round her 

knee. 
At last, with friendly hand Death set her free 

From earthly care and pain, , 
While through the land the first low murmurs 

went 
Of that slow-gathering storm of discontent 
By which our land from England's grasp was 

rent, 
A free, new life to gain. 



MARGARET GBRMAINE. 63 

This is her story — all the records show 
Of "• the French Grandmother " of long ago," 
Whose blood is in our veins, whose name we 
know. 

Of daily life a part. 
What if in some far, unknown time and place 
We yet should see and greet her face to face ! 
Ah well, we do not know. She shall have place 

Here, in our home and heart. 



64 THE LAST WORD. 



THE LAST WORD. 

(March 12, 1888.) 



"Wilt thou be with me on the wedding day ?" — 

As if from heaven was the ansAver made ; 
The passing soul paused on its homeward way 

To speak the solemn word, ''Be not afraid ; 
Yes^ sureli/^ then and alivays'' Fainting heart, 
Take courage ! Never again from him to part. 
Let this last word thy comfort be, and stay 

More sweet and sacred than the lover's kiss. 

What holier vow could'st thou desire than 
this 
To light with joy the golden wedding day ? 
The pure in heart the face of God shall see ; 

The pure in heart his still, small voice, shall 
hear. 

It was God's message, spoken firm and clear. 
As Death's kind hand his prisoned soul set free. 




Ml 












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